


Syndicate

by Obsessive_Writer



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: And Marco's that cute cashier who is actually way cooler than you think ehe, Gangsters, Gore, Hacker!Jean, Jean's POV, Jearco - Freeform, M/M, Modern AU, Wherein shit goes terribly wrong because Jean can be a dumbass sometimes, and Eren's, dark themes, rape in chapter 2, riren - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessive_Writer/pseuds/Obsessive_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I wasn't allowed to do this, but I couldn't resist. The bright LCD screen of my laptop illuminated my face, my nervous but hopeful grin.</i><br/>I was actually going to do this</p><p> </p><p>Jean decides to do one thing that will change his life, for the worst. Copy a file off a gang member's computer and crack the encryption.<br/>Well, shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I wasn't allowed to do this, but I couldn't resist. The bright LCD screen of my laptop illuminated my face, my nervous but hopeful grin.  
I was actually going to do this.

Holy glorious mother of fuck.

Whoa, better slow down and back the fuck up a fair bit. I'm confusing even myself here, sheesh.

Well, my name is Jean Kirschtein. I'm twenty-two years old, male. Painfully attractive, if I do say so myself. I live in a dingy ass apartment on the not-so safe side of town, alone. Kinda on the border of thug territory, actually.

"But what do you do?", you may ask, "It's all nice and fine that you live in a terrifying neighbourhood where people get shot in their own baths, but what the fuck is your job, dear Jean?"

I like to call it a career.  
Professional computer fixer and back-up genius, but you could call me an almost Freelance IT Dude with a smidgen of hacker on the side. I got my credentials through my love of computers and an online course.  
Not my fault the Uni is shit. Or that I didn't try, that I was distracted.

Um, maybe a little. Just a teeny, tiny itsy bitsy bit.

Anyway, onwards.  
I usually get your average fossil who doesn't understand what a modem does, but last week was one of those random 'Ooh, pretty person.' weeks. I had four customers in total, two were middle aged, the other two were _hot_. Brain exploding level of hot.

But only Hotness #2 is relevant to why I'm now grinning like a high drug addict, sitting on my bed, sheets pulled up around me.

Definitely not in just my boxers.

Hotness #2 had issues retrieving files. I retrieved said files in three minutes. Was I bad? Yes. Did I get overly excited at the sight of an encrypted file named with only a number, thinking 'My God, I can be a spy!' Totally not... Fine. Admittedly, yes.

That's the thing with me. I like my Agents and superhero shit, a fuck load.

So, a few days later and here I am; on my bed, under sheets, in my batman boxers, staring at the computer as it loads. I raised my left hand, flicking the USB out, listening to the little _ksssk_ noise it makes, metal on cheap black plastic.

Finally, the screen loads.  
I frantically smash at the close button as my movie starts blaring again. It's been a day since I used this laptop, and I drained its batteries completely. Like the tired dumbfuck I was at 6 a.m, I didn't plug it back in. What I did do was remove my earbuds and fall asleep on top of the crumpled sheets. And yes, I was very late to work. So late I gave up and called a sickie.

Eh, my boss is a prick anyways.

Once the media player window, that was playing _Burlesque_ (Shut up, it's a good movie and has VERY ATTRACTIVE PEOPLE IN IT. Yes I mean people as in chicks and guys, don't be dense.), closed, I slotted the USB into the laptop.  
And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I shrieked, startled by a sudden and loud BEEEEP.

A box opened, asking if I wanted to run the un-encryptor on the file. I clicked enter without a second thought. Another window opened, various matrices flashing. I stared, enraptured by the pretty colours.  
Another beep.

My phone.

I ignored it, the text could wait, I assured myself, transfixed once more with the laptop. The window had changed to once asking if I wanted to open the pdf. (A fairly large file, I might add. Jesus.)

I hesitated.

I was about to open a client's personal file. Probably porn, the guy's boyfriend looked like the type...

I swallowed. Was I actually hoping for porn? ... possibly.

I clicked yes, and choked, my throat suddenly dry. The pdf's first paragraph made me regret my choice of downloading the file, of even taking it off the guy's computer.

_This pdf contains the dossiers for all recent and past actions. It also contains all lists of outgoing and incoming trade agreements of The Legion, and of the deceased (rivals, agents, defamers, and confidants)  
To remove this from gang possession or to copy it should be viewed as a death sentence. Remember; backstabbing won't go unpunished and there is no where to hide..._

The file continued on, talking about drug creation schemes and raids. I gave up, shaken to the core.  
I was so fucked. So, so fucked.  
I hastily exited the file then shut the computer down, placing it on the bedside table before laying down.

I hugged the sheets tightly around me. I thought this would make me feel secure- usually does- but it just fed my paranoia.

I said I live on the bad side of town, and I do. Trost has three gangs; two main ones, one minor.  
Titan is one of those gangs that you can treat as being... scary as all fuck. They kill people in broad daylight; in malls, in front of schools. Anywhere. It's a well known thing that they have hit lists that are _extremely_ extensive. Most are from petty offences against members, too.

The Legion is like Trost's mafia. They are very precise with everything they do. Who they kill, who they recruit, to what building they use next.  
The way they kill is certainly more... clinical and prolonged.

Their leader goes by the code name Danchou. No one has seen his face. Like, ever. And their fucking headquarters is a block away from my house. Great.

The third gang isn't worth mentioning.

Long story short, after three hours of freaking out, I slowly fell asleep.  
And woke to my alarm blaring.

Throwing the loud object at the ground, and cursing loudly when it kept fucking beeping, I got up and properly turned the damn thing off.  
Well, today was a work day.

Remembering the text, I checked my phone and sighed happily.  
I didn't have to be at work, yes we have an office, until later in the morning. Which meant I could get a coffee, and try to forget what I had found.

Sounded like a great plan.

I showered quickly then got dressed in my usual work attire; dark blue jeans, a grey singlet and a black button up shirt over that.  
Breakfast was two bits of decent (for once) toast and a coffee- black, half a sugar. Hey, I was still half asleep at that stage. The coffee kick restarted my brain swiftly and I was almost shaking on my way out the door.  
By that time, it was nine-thirty.

I still had an hour to go.

My neighbour, a woman named Petra, looked at me strangely as I joined her in the lift.

"Morning."

"Good morning... Are you okay? You look... um.." She made a face, indicating the shoddy mirrored walls of the elevator. I turned and inspected my face, grimacing.

Ew. Bags under my eyes, which were bloodshot from sleep deprivation. And I shuddered every so often- but hey, so was she. It is damn cold in these fucking elevators; no heating.  
I looked high.

Dear Lord.

I coughed, wiping my nose and groaning, glancing at the petite woman briefly. She relaxed.

"Ah, just a bit sick, you know?" I offered. Petra smiled and nodded.

"Well, get better! See you later, Jean." She waved as we parted ways; Petra walking to the public phone near the front desk we have here, me walking out onto the street.

I shivered, huddling into my jacket a little more. It was getting colder and I hated it. The weather had been outrageously hot for weeks, and we had had an amazing total of three weeks of beautiful weather. Now it was overcast, and just generally shitty weather.

Fuck climate change.

The walk to the bakery-cum-café took all of five minutes. And there was already a fucking line.

I stood in line with my hands in my pockets, shuffling forward.

"Can I help you, sir?"

My head snapped up. I was at the front of the line and looking right at the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen. My God I feel so gay right at that moment.

He had lightly tanned skin and a smattering of freckles across both cheeks. And the softest looking hair. And the deepest, richest brown eyes, ever. My eyes focussed again and I coughed lightly, blushing.

"Yea, I guess you can. White chocolate mocha please, eat in. Oh and could I have the apple danish?"

"Of course... Two dollars." He said, writing the order down.

I blinked.  
'Two dollars, but the mocha... Oh. _oh_.' The pretty man was giving me a freebie. Alrighty then, "But the mocha...?"

He grinned, tapping his nose.  
"Free for you." he said quietly.

After paying Mr Cute-n-freckly, I sat down at a table and waited.  
My long time nemesis Eren Jaeger stalked over and gave me the coffee and food.

"Marco asked me to give you this." Eren held out a letter, which I reached for, scowling when the prick held it away from me.

"Stay the fuck away from Mikasa, too. She and I are both severely sick of your shit, Horseface."

He glared and flicked the note at me, I scrambled to snatch it up. Sighing, I unfolded it and read;

_Seriously, don't worry. I'm new here, but I think it's okay if I pay for coffee for patrons I find attractive, right? I get off at 12, maybe we can talk?_  
Ha..  
My name's Marco, btw.  
Marco Bodt. 

I smiled. Cute, but I had work.  
Glancing at my phone, I then proceeded to guzzle the mocha and hastily eat the danish. Twenty minutes and it was a fifteen minute walk.

I left. My mind raced; flicking from cute boy Marco, to the freaky pdf, to possible clients today.  
I smiled, thoroughly distracted by thinking about Marco again.

Very cute...

I tightened my grip on my laptop bag, barely registering a yell of warning, apparently directed at me, followed by a vehicle speeding up.

The car swiped my left side, knocking me off balance, to the ground, knocking the wind out of me.


	2. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this is the rape chapter. Just a heads up. You have been warned_

My eyes flickered open, slowly focusing on the shifting shadows on the ceiling, thrown up by the oversized standalone wardrobe, my bed, the moving curtains.  
I kept the window open at night, even though that really isn't the smartest thing to do where I live. I live in a small townhouse in the industrial side of the city, surrounded by huge factories.

This house is the only lived in one in the block, though I still think there's squatters in number nine...

I live alone. Well, technically not. My mother lives with me (not the other way round, I swear), because my father died in a drive-by when I was twelve. Yeah, not fun. I'm twenty-two now and my mother is still... broken. She has issues. Probably should be in an institution but... we can't exactly afford it.  
There's a reason we live in the industrial zone. We don't have much money.  
My father was our main source of income, and now he's gone, we don't have anything that sustainable. My part-time job is shit; I'm underpaid to the extreme.  
My mother is unemployed, has been for eight years.

I sat up, listening out for any noises. I heard light snoring from the bed on the other side of my room and sighed in relief. She was still asleep. Good.  
I got out of bed and tugged a shirt over my head before heading into the kitchen.  
Yesterday, a new guy had started at the cafe. Marco's nice enough. The boss loves him, thinks he's the best. I might lose my job if she starts comparing....

I ate a meager bowl of cheap cereal and thought some more.

I had the day off today. Which suited me just fine, because it was a day I wanted to use to do things other than working. Things like looking for people.  
Who?

Well... when I was seventeen I was raped.

I was on my way home from school when it happened. I usually walked home with Mikasa, this pretty girl who lives in the posh apartments smack bang in the centre of the city, but today was different. She had Aikido training, so she had had to go straight there. I had Armin with me, though.

We walked past the hungry eyed old man who always sat outside this tiny little café, and picked up our conversation once more.

"She likes you." I insisted.

Armin flushed deeply, shaking his head.  
"Ah... I-I'm pretty sure Annie likes Bertholdt."

I looked at him blankly.  
"Dude, not Annie. I meant Mikasa. She digs you. The whole dorky nerd thing... it's cute." I threw up my hands when the blonde glanced at me curiously, "No homo. I mean, she'd think that you're cute, man."

"Right..."

I grinned then shivered.  
I had the odd feeling that someone was watching us, like a predator stalking in the shadows. I looked around and swallowed.

The day was overcast, so there was the usual doom-and-gloom feel to the atmosphere- but this was stupid.

I couldn't see anyone in sight, the street was abnormally silent for this time in the afternoon. Then I heard it, slow footsteps.  
Pacing towards us.

They knew we were there. We knew they were there, close by. Gang members, probably armed with guns and or knives.

Shit.

Armin moved closer to me. I grabbed his hand and ran to the closest store, banging on the door. No answer. Just as I started calling for help, an arm closed around my waist, tugging me back. I was thrown to the ground, and once I had gotten over the shock, I started struggling.

I heard yelling.

"Other kid left! Don't bother. Check this one for ID and money. Take both, if he has any." A rough voice instructed as hands tugged me to my feet. The same hands patted me down, checking pockets.

A wad of foul tasting cloth was shoved in my mouth to muffle my screams. I tried to move my tongue so I could lessen the bitter, bile inducing taste and sensation but only ended up choking as the man shoved me down. Cruel laughter started up again as I struggled, trying to stand. They let me for a moment then I was grabbed under the armpits and held up. I swung a kick, my leg was caught. And twisted at the ankle.

'Please, let me go... Kill me. Just do it.' I thought constantly, hopelessly as they abused me. Tears stung my eyes and trickled down my cheeks. They didn't stop.

My pants were tugged down as they led me into an alleyway, shoving me face first into the wall. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. They bickered for a brief moment before one undid the fly of his jeans and grabbed my hips with one hand, the other gripping my hair tightly. I knew what would happen next. I froze, trying to tell myself it'd be okay. It wasn't going to be okay, and from the moment the thug shoved into me, I knew I was never going to be okay. 

I screamed out. Not that that worked, the fucking cloth muffled everything. Every gasp. Everything below my hips began to ache, then hurt terribly. I had tearing sensations through soft tissue and muscle followed by burning pain.  
He kept going and going, slamming my now aching and bruised body against the wall, only stopping when he had finished with me, two climaxes later.

I hit the ground, whimpering. Everything hurt.  
I felt dirty, used, abused, gross...

I sat up weakly when they chucked my pants back at me, staring at the fabric blankly. I didn't have the energy, physical or emotional, to do anything. I was still in a confused state of mind.

I was even more confused at the sound of a gun being loaded. I looked up to see the thugs glancing around nervously, reaching for knives and handguns.

The leader of the three, a tall seedy looking guy with bags under his eyes, went down first. A bullet shot from the far right, in the direction of the butcher on the street, tore a gaping, messy red hole through his throat. He made loud choking noises as he fell, convulsing in a rapidly seeping puddle of blood.

The other two exchanged glances and bolted for a door at the end of the alleyway. Within the space of a minute, their brains were splattered across the brick wall along with bits of skull and hair.

I looked at the figure who now stood at the entrance to the alleyway and swallowed thickly. The guy was short- I could see that even though I was still sitting-, but the only features I could pick out from behind an intricate mesh mask that attached to the top lip of the bullet proof vest, was a pair of silver eyes that both melted and froze my heart. Transfixed, my eyes traced the curve of the mask, the way the bangs of his undercut fell across it... Wow.  
He cradled a submachine gun with one arm, the other reaching into his pocket as he moved closer to me, and crouched.

"Are you injured?" he asked. Definitely a dude. His tone was clear, but deep and verging on husky.

"I just got sexually abused and you're fucking asking me if I'm injured. Yes. My ankle, my ass..."

He nodded, taking out a small, flat device and clicking it.  
"This is a tracker. Don't panic. You are aware that this was a part of gang issues, yes?" I nodded, "Good. Hospital or let us help, knowing if you say yes to that, you're indebted to us."

"How?-"

"We waste our time on a civilian unwilling to give anything back at least once a week. We try to keep it to a minimum."

"... The second." We couldn't afford hospital bills on top of everything else.

"Fine. Name's Levi. Petra will be here in a minute, she'll clean you up and help you back to HQ. You may shower, eat, drink, then you must leave. Never mention this to anyone. Do not talk to me if you see me again."

And with that, he left.

It's been five years. I haven't seen Levi since then, and I still feel indebted to him. To be honest, I was scared of what those men really wanted from me, what they might have done. I owe Levi.

So, today, five years exactly, I'm looking for him. I know the HQ has changed location, so when I step out of the house, I head for the middle of town, to a bar called Thorns.

A heavy scent of cigarette smoke hangs about the air of the bar as I step inside. A few people eye me off then return their attention to their drinks. Sighing, I head to the bar itself and order a shot. In the corner, a few fedora wearers pass packets and exchange cash. The cop opposite them doesn't even blink.

A hand pats my shoulder briefly, so I look up. Levi.  
Five years hasn't done much to him. There's a bit more muscle here and there, or maybe it's just his choice of shirt. His eyes carry a strange emotionless emotion that freaks me out. I go to talk and he blatantly ignores me, shaking his head slightly.

"Two glasses of wine, table eighteen, out the back. As usual." He stated in a bored monotone, gesturing vaguely to a door. Those silver eyes flash to me and it eventually clicks. I take my drink and head out the back. All the tables are from the old section of the bar. The seats are worn out, pockmarked leather.

I sit down at number 18 (carved crudely into the surface. And I wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ow that hurt to write...  
> My tumblr is Shingeki-full-Homo if anyone wants updates on this before I actually update or to just stalk me.


End file.
